Naomi Osaka came through a US Open baptism of fire with a smile

Now the dust has settled, we can see the US Open for what it really was. The birth of the next global superstar.

Naomi Osaka poses with the US Open trophy at The Rockefeller Center in New York. Picture: AFP

A trek was made to Margaret Court Arena in January to watch Ashleigh Barty beat Naomi Osaka at the Australian Open. That was the expectation.

Barty was hitting the ball like defeated players were hitting Crown Casino, well and often. She’d become a laid-back smokey to win the tournament and Osaka, a relatively unknown and unpolished gem from Japan, would be taken care of like a piece of uncomplicated paperwork.

At the last minute, the match had been switched from Rod Laver Arena because Simona Halep was taking forever to beat Lauren Davis, 15-13 in the third set. Barty was tapped on the shoulder in the corridor at Melbourne Park. A change to the schedule was relayed. Barty was unsettled and dispirited by the shift. She wanted to perform in the big room. The boutique, 7500-seat enclosure named after Court was a let-down by comparison but still, there was a billowing level of support for the homegrown player.

Osaka pulled her fluorescent orange visor down over her eyes and got on with it. She was better than anyone expected. She hit an incredibly heavy ball. The technique was solid. This was a serious player. She had more game than she could handle at the time; she laughed at the ridiculousness of the death-or-glory winners she attempted. She was unflappable and unrelenting and right when Barty seemed ready for her majors’ breakthrough, Osaka simply hit her off the court. The more Barty struggled, the more parochial the crowd became.

The more raspberries that came from the crowd, the more Osaka handled herself with aplomb. She won 6-4 6-2 and reminded you of the 1999, White City-visiting version of Serena Williams; young, powerful, big-serving, big-hitting, fearless. Aged 20, she was something special in the making if she learnt when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. After Barty trudged away, Osaka told the crowd: “I feel really happy! But I’m also kind of sorry. I know you guys wanted her to win.” They roared for her then.

web graphic for the Australian online 1509

web graphic for the Australian online 1509

Two days later, Halep beat Osaka 6-3 6-2 in the fourth round. She was still too rough around the edges. Yet the strongest impression had been made. A unique character was waiting in the wings. She was likeable, and that’s important for tennis. Cameras are trained on players for every second of their matches, capturing all the utterances and twitches and grimaces and scowls. It’s a personality-driven sport, and Osaka departed Melbourne as one to follow. She went on to win at Indian Wells and reached the third rounds at Wimbledon and Roland Garros as she steadily climbed the rankings. And then she went to New York and all hell broke loose.

She faced the wrath of an ugly, boozed-up crowd in the final against Williams. An intimidating opponent was having an emotional breakdown. The crowd turned feral. Osaka kept swinging for the fences, kept connecting, kept pulling the visor down when the spectator abuse became too much. She kept pumping her fist, slapping her thigh. Come on, she kept telling herself. More aplomb. She reduced Williams to the role of overwhelmed and outplayed opponent before covering herself in glory at the presentation ceremony. Her speech mirrored what she said after beating Barty in Melbourne. I’m so happy! And I’m sorry. I know you guys wanted her to win.

Now the dust has settled, we can see the US Open for what it ­really was. The birth of the next global superstar. It’s been thought that Williams’ hostility and the seething crowd conspired to ruin the biggest moment of Osaka’s ­career. I disagree. I think it was the greatest thing that could have happened to her. It allowed her decency and humility to shine through.

The chaos at the other end of the court only amplified her composure and class. She revealed herself fully in NYC. And it could not have gone better, personally or professionally.

She’s become the world No 7 because she’s a decent tennis player. And she’s about to sign the largest endorsement contract ever offered to a female athlete by adidas. Because she’s marketing gold. Her deal of $US8.5 million-plus ($11.5m) annually will shoot her to No 2, behind only Williams, on the next Forbes rich list for female ­athletes.

Williams receives $US18m per year from her sponsors, primarily Nike. Another seven-figure contract for Osaka with Nissan, not to mention the $US5.3m she won at the US Open, will line her pockets with silver and gold. The mega-rich Asian market has been faceless since the retirement of China’s Li Na. Osaka fills the void. It’s a ­licence to print money. She’s spent most of her life in the US and possess a distinctly American accent. She has Haitian, Japanese and US passports. She’s a citizen of the world and as the New York Post wrote, “a branding sensation”.

Osaka needs no further introduction to the broader, non-tennis masses after the most high-profile match in memory, one which moved beyond sport into social commentary and made her the most famous woman on the planet for a day or two there.

The fame will only grow, however, when Japan hosts the Olympics. She will be the face of the Tokyo Games. She’s making Maria Sharapova, the foamier pin-up girl, look like an old maid.

Tennis-wise, Osaka will never again face a situation as harrowing as the one she powered through in New York. Surviving a caterwauling Williams and the unruly masses is proof she can get through any circumstance. No other match will be that difficult. She served it out with iron-willed character.

She’s leapt to the front of a new wave of female players that ­includes the Jelena Ostapenko, 21, Barty, 22, Garbine Muguruza, 24 and 25-year-old Sloane Stephens. They’re all tremendous players. Intriguing, contrasting characters. How will women’s tennis fare without Williams? She will be missed. Sorely. But her absence will be far from ruinous.

Forgotten in the fallout has been the fact that Osaka played a heck of a match. She out-Serena’d Serena. Killed her. Beat her with the weapons only Williams was thought to possess. Bigger groundstrokes. Bigger serves. Better movement. Better mentality. If they traded places, how would Williams have responded to the treatment? When Williams was hounded by spectators at Indian Wells in 2001, in an incident she interpreted as racism, she refused to play there for the next 14 years.

Osaka copped it from 25,000 on Arthur Ashe Stadium but this was no nightmare for her. It was a blessing in disguise. All she had to do was be herself. The same bold young woman who beat Barty so emphatically in Melbourne. No diva behaviour. No preening for cameras. No PR rubbish. Asked in Tokyo this week who she really is, she’s merely blushed and replied, “I am ... me.”